Knock on Wood
by BecauseHeroesNeverDie
Summary: Just another one of those "What happened to Susan?" fics. I will continue it. It will be a collection of oneshots in which we see her day to day life and how she changes slowly.
1. Makeup

She still had her ticket, but she'd never take the train. It had already gone by.

Susan slammed the door behind her, numb to the loud banging it produced in the ratty hallway of the apartment building she inhabited. It wasn't a bad place to live, it just couldn't hold a candle to that cozy, warm feeling that one was encompassed in when one entered a home. A home had character, it was filled high with memories of good times and not-so-pleasant happenings. This was just a place to stay, and you weren't ever really meant to stay very long.

She kicked her heels off. They clattered noisily, as they slid along the dingy, wooden floor. She swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. Susan looked at the vibrant cherry lipstick smudged forlornly on her hand. Her other hand rubbed away at her eyes. She could feel the make-up that was clinging to her eyes. Rubbing harder, she grew increasingly tired as she realized what a fruitless thing it was to try to wipe it off.

She walked to the bathroom. The chill rush of cold water that slithered down her wrists and through her fingers woke her up from her miserable haze.

"Ahh," she shivered, as she splashed water on her face. Susan's gaze trailed upward. Her reflection stared at her. Was this really Susan Pevensie? She had to wonder.

She was not an unattractive woman. Dark hair framed her fair complexioned face, amplifying it's dark tone. Her eyes were full and of a pleasant shade of brown, though they shimmered with tears. She looked rather ordinary, she supposed. It was probably the watery black lines running down her cheeks and hugging her jawline, coupled with the violent red that was smeared across her mouth, that made her quite the odd sight. But, then again, she didn't always look like that.

She sighed, resolving to just never wear make-up again, thus avoiding this problem altogether.

She grabbed a small hand towel, wet it, and then dabbed at her face with it. Susan remembered when she'd thought that being an adult would be glamorous and amazing.  
She'd never been so wrong in her life.

Sometimes, she wished that she'd gone on the train with Lucy, Edmund, and Peter. Why hadn't she? Oh, yes, she was too "grown up" for a day of sea-side fun. Plus, she'd had a date that night and wanted to get all dolled up. If they were pointing down at her from up in Heaven, and laughing their heads off, as well, she knew that, without a doubt, it was what she deserved.

Susan turned the water off with a flick of her hand, then rang out her hand towel. She placed it softly down on the rack. With that, she left, shutting the light down and closing the door.

She was back in her Dining-Living-Kitchen-Bedroom. She headed to her wardrobe. It wasn't a big one, it was reasonably sized, holding the few items of clothing she owned. She pulled the door open, stepping in to reach her nightgown, even though she could reach it from the outside. Susan looked back, checking that the door remained open. How foolish would it be to shut oneself in a wardrobe?

Susan's knuckles tapped the back, just enough to emit a quiet sound. She rapt against the back panel a few times, lowering her ear so it was nearly pressed against the wood. She was almost certain that the sound was hollow. But, since the mind can play tricks on one, she pulled her nightgown off the hanger and stepped out of the wardrobe.


	2. Look around

Susan walked warily back to her apartment from a hectic day at work. She was staring dejectedly at the ground, when a sound roused her. It was music.

A boy of about fourteen was playing away on his guitar and singing. Susan stood still, breaking the stillness to sway to his playing. He was really quite good at what he was doing. And it also seemed that not only was he skilled at what he was doing, he seemed to truly and fully enjoy it as well. He looked so happy just to be alive and have the chance to play his music

And it seemed not a single soul was listening to him. Susan gazed about, looking left, right, back, and forth, only to prove that theory correct. No one was even giving this talented child any mind. She stood motionless as the song continued. The song slowed down and then stopped. She clapped loudly, amazed with his performance.

"Why are you clapping?" The boy asked, staring up at her.

"Your song was very good. Why didn't anyone else stop to listen?" Susan inquired. Everyone she'd seen on the streets had just walked past him like he was nothing at all. They walked past him like he was thin air. She was surprised nobody noticed such a talented artist.

"I've practiced here everyday. I've been doing it since my dad taught me to play the guitar when I was eight. You've gone by me about a hundred times and this is the first time you ever noticed." He answered.

Susan was shocked. How could she walk by him every day and never see him? She'd always walked with a simple purpose: get to and from work. She'd never been sidetracked before. She always went straight to her destination.

"Sorry. I guess when you're in a rush you never see anything. Keep playing, you're pretty good. Bye!" She walked off. It had never occured to her that she missed so much in her simple lifestyle. She was passing her life by, and not seeing a bit of it.

Susan decided that she was going to pay attention to anything she could. She'd never go down the streets without searching for something extraodinary ever again.

She walked down the street, gazing up into the clear, endlessly blue sky. She could hear birds singing, and the rush of water as she walked over the bridge in the middle of the city. She watched all the people, who were shuffling past her, oblivious to her existence or that the world was quite a beautiful place, if only you just looked around.

**_Author's corner: This is, like, half the size of chapter one. I tried to write this completely on the computer, so it didn't turn out right. _**


	3. Imagine

The river shone in the sunlight, and a young woman leaned against the bridge, gazing into the rushing water. She saw her pale figure reflected in the rippling surface. A white plastic bag floated in the water. A flash of a glittering, crystal clear river cutting through a fertile, green valley superimposed the murky, blue-brown river. It filled her vision and then began to fade away.

She dismissed it as a figment of her imagination. Funny, she'd never been aware that she had an imagination, let alone such an impressive one.  
She saw the vivid picture in her head, and wondered where it could have come from. Maybe she'd seen a place like that before and had just forgotten it.

The bag was tugged along with the current. The river flowed, taking the white blur out of her sight. Life was like a river. Sometimes you just had to let it take you away. As a very young child, she would dream of flowing in her own direction. She dreamed of being different from all the wary, sad adults she saw all around her. She would make people know she was there. She'd change the world.

Susan now laughed at such ridiculous fantasies. She'd given up on such fanciful thoughts so long ago, thrown it away with all the other perks of the childish mind. She knew never to yearn for something that would not happen. She knew she'd never be anything more than a poor waitress in this "Land of Possibilities", she'd probably never even get married.

"What a lovely thought; I'm going to die in a ratty apartment as a boring old maid," Susan muttered to no one. She didn't even have any friends. She sighed. At least she wasn't some starry-eyed kid, thinking she'd be something special. She was confident that anyone who tried to fight the current only drowned. If one did escape the torrential waters, what was there to do? Just go on living like they already did, but didn't that just mean they were trapped in another stream?

Susan caught sight of a rock. It was simply sitting there, in the water, still and unmoving. It stayed its ground, but wouldn't it eventually just wear away? It would, Susan determined. That was simply the way things went. It was life, pure and simple. But, it seemed, the rock was different from the things that drifted . The water formed it, but it formed the water, as well.

It might be nice to be a rock. But, perhaps it would be better to be drift wood. Floating where you will, but eventually reaching the shore. Or maybe a letter in a bottle. You'd be sure to have a purpose. Reaching out to somebody could be your goal.

Susan laughed aloud once more. Such silly thoughts. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to entertain an imagination. She might have never gotten rid of it in the first place. Perhaps it was in a dusty box at the back of her mind ready to be cracked open. Or else, already unleashed. 


End file.
